


The Water Tank

by Stelmarya



Series: The Chaos of Stars [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stelmarya/pseuds/Stelmarya
Summary: A mysterious failure has left Jaime without running water in his room; his best idea, of course, is to go and borrow someone else's shower. Naturally, Brienne is the one to have the dubious pleasure of his presence. AU.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: The Chaos of Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676989
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	The Water Tank

**Author's Note:**

> I also posted this in Spanish in my FF account, if you wanna check it out.

**The Water Tank**

No matter how many times Jaime smacked it, the shower refused to cooperate.

It was bad enough he was sticky with sweat and smelled terrible, he also needed to finish his Tax Payment in Relation to Private Property and send to the admin the documents to confirm he was going to stay in those shitty dorms for another year, all before eight.

But, of course, the universe didn’t work like that. If something could go wrong, it did, and exactly the one day you needed it to work out the most.

His roommate was missing, and anyway Addam was _so_ skilled at domestic affairs, Cersei would’ve been just as useful.

 _Desperate times require desperate measures_ , he thought as he grabbed two towels, clothes, soap and shampoo. Such a pity Tyrion was still at Casterly Rock. _He_ would’ve been useful.

He exited his room with his stuff in hand, ignoring the sensation of his shirt sticking to his back, and swept back his sweaty hair from his forehead. As he walked through the hall, the names of each person that lived in that dorm popped in his mind, and they vanished as fast as they came.

 _No. No. No. Definitely no. Maybe… no._ The room 208 was one of the last, in a truly terrible spot, and Jaime couldn’t remember for the life of him who were the two people that lived there. _Sansa_ , a small voice told him in his mind, and he shrugged. Better than Jon and Robb, or Elia and Arya, or Gods forbid it, Aerys.

He knocked the door twice and leaned on the frame, aware that what he was about to ask was a true audacity. No few times he had been told he was incapable of feeling shame.

The second law of the universe: the person you most needed at that moment _of course_ was missing, even when you saw them less than two hours ago.

_Of course._

The woman in front of him wasn’t a stranger (it’d have been impossible not to see her), but Jaime had never talked to her. About her? Definitely.

“Yo,” he said, given that she seemed too busy blushing and watching his jaw. “Sorry to bother you. Is Sansa here?”

Her eyes widened.

“N-o. No, she’s—” She stopped talking to clench her neck and, apparently, think. Jaime had the sudden urge to shake her, to see if she hurried up or something. “… She left for the ev-evening. With her sister.”

Jaime debated in his mind whether he should stick to his plan or swallow his pride and ask Robb the favor, even though that annoying brat had defeated him in the last trials for quarterback.

 _Never_.

“Well, whatever. My shower’s fucked. Can I use yours?”

She blinked, her eyebrows rose, and she stiffened in her spot. Her freckles stretched on her cheeks, but thanks to her astonishment Jaime could stare at her shiny and beautiful blue eyes, apparently the only pretty thing about her.

Even though he was really impatient for the answer (he could’ve squeezed his shirt for a delicious juice of cold sweat, just three easy steps), he held himself back; he had the feeling she’d run away if he moved too suddenly.

Something in her face shifted; she squinted, squared her shoulders and frowned. Jaime was intrigued.

“It’s fucked?”

“Yeah, fucked,” he repeated, irritably drumming his fingers on the door’s frame. “Damaged, ruined, broken, kaput. Can I use yours?”

For a few seconds, she seemed about to say no, but Jaime straightened and his smell reached her, a mixture of dirt, sweat, badly-washed shirts and old leather. _Have some pity, Jesus._

Without saying a word she stepped back, allowing him to enter. The first thing he noticed was that everything was tidy, _too tidy_ , and for some reason there wasn’t as much pink as he’d expected. The gods knew Sansa never let go a chance to wear it. The second thing he noticed, and he involuntary moaned, was that they had AC, bless the gods.

“May the gods help, bless and favor you,” he told her, stretching his stiffened muscles. He turned to see the woman, but she had already averted her gaze. She couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable even if she tried. “I mean it, wench. Thanks for the favor.”

“Don’t call me that. My name’s Brienne.”

“Well, Brienne the Wench, I’m—”

“Jaime Lannister,” she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. Now she seemed more exasperated than anything. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Where’s the shower?”

She pointed the direction and he nodded as a goodbye, entering the bathroom with all his things in hand. Just like the rest of the room, everything was in perfect order, but there were three times the stuff that Addam and he had in theirs. How could someone have so many lotions and soaps?

 _Women_ , he thought, and got in the shower.

Maybe it was because he had been looking forward to this for hours, or because sweat had left him all gooey, but this must’ve been one of the best showers of his life, even if there were five extra shampoos, female razor blades and endless creams. For a moment he had the idea of going out to the room just clad in his towel, but the rational, mature part of his brain stopped him.

 _She’s making you a big favor even though she clearly would’ve preferred to kick you out, and you’ll do that to her? You’re not_ that much _of an asshole._

 _Buzzkill_.

He got dressed in great pleasure, feeling his clean skin and his hair shiny, and went out to the refreshing room. Brienne looked up, pointing at a water bottle sitting in front of her on the table.

“Congratulations for winning the game,” she mumbled, lowering once again her eyes to the book she was reading.

Jaime’s face was pure happiness; had she seen him, Brienne would’ve surely blushed. He sat down on the remaining chair and tried to read what she was writing upside-down. He got bored quickly enough.

“Were you watching the game today, in the crowd?”

“No, I’m not really into that…” she pulled out a yellow highlighter and then scribbled again, and Jaime had no idea how someone could voluntarily write down so much stuff on a piece of paper. “It’s the only thing people have talked ‘bout today.”

“Well, thanks anyways.”

It was strange for Jaime to see that his shiniest smile, the one that got him a weekly date, was casually ignored by the woman in front of him. For no reason he had the urge to pull back her bangs behind her ears.

“What are you studying?”

“Advanced Dothraki.”

“Is that your major?”

“No. I’m studying a doble major in Essos’ Literature and Languages from the Far East.”

A pause. The sound of her pen moving on the paper. The engine of the AC.

“Gotta be honest with you, that’s impressing. I’m graduating next time, Law major.”

The pen stopped. Her straw blonde hair didn’t shine under the light.

“Gotta be honest with you,” she said, and Jaime smiled even more, if that was possible; his urges to touch her increased. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who wants to be a lawyer.”

His smile waned. An itch in his neck made him snort.

“What kind of guy do I look like?”

“The kind that’s here with a football scholarship, that never studies, has a 2.1 GPA and studies Business.”

“I’m _personally offended._ My father pays for the tuition every year, I’m studying Law because of him; I have a 3.7 GPA and I _should_ be studying right now.”

He jumped to his feet, ran all the way to his room and clumsily grabbed his laptop. When he reached Brienne’s room again, she was still blinking.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said, and for the first time, she smiled.

He pulled his chair close to hers and began typing as he prattled on, because Jaime wouldn’t be Jaime if he stopped talking for a single second. When Sansa came back, hours later, she found them fast asleep on top of each other, with the Dothraki translation still in hand.

**xxx**

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Varys said, massaging his temples. Why did he always had to work with these madmen? “This is, as people usually say, fucked.”

As if it agreed, the water tank screeched, then creaked and, just as it was, refused to work. Pity for those rooms that were left without running water. Qyburn shrugged.

“Something good must’ve come from my intervention.”

Jaime and Brienne, several floors up, would’ve agreed with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll soon start a series of drabbles of Jaime/Brienne stuff called "I'd choose you", this is just the beginning :)


End file.
